“It’s what I do,” he said dully. “Everyone…” He swallowed. “Everyone I care about. Eventually.”
Ah.
She turned his words over in her mind, petrified of saying the wrong thing, the thing that would break the delicate thread of their intimacy and make him shut down again. “I think…I thinkthe only thing you’re responsible for is yourself. This moment. Anything else…you just have to try to let go. Keep moving forward.” She felt stupid as soon as she said it, her fear of upsetting him by getting too specific leading her too far in the other direction, into the realm of banal platitudes.
Her words seemed to affect him, though. He closed his eyes and nodded, just once. Suddenly, she felt like they would both die if she didn’t touch him. Without letting herself second-guess the impulse, she leaned over and took his hand in hers. He looked down at their joined hands in surprise, then back up at her. Without breaking eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it with devastating tenderness.
“Thank you,” he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze before releasing it.
—
“SHOULD WE DOanother question and call it a night?”
Grey looked over at him.
“I had no idea you would be so into these questions,” she said, her mouth twisting into an expression of sly amusement.
He shrugged. “I like learning more about you.”
It was true. The more he found out, the more fascinated he was. He felt like he could have sat there with her for hours, confessing his deepest fears and transgressions to her, discovering hers in return. It had been years since he had let himself open up to someone like this. It was exhilarating.
Maybe he just needed a therapist, he thought ruefully. Though it seemed like it might be some kind of ethical violation for a therapist to trigger exactly the same combination of vulnerability and arousal in him that Grey did.
“I’m not complaining.” She picked up her purse and pulledout a small tin box and a lighter. A whiff of cannabis hit him. She popped open the box to reveal five neat, prerolled joints.
“Should we take this celebration up a notch?”
He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. But go ahead. I’ll stick with this,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle and taking a swig.
She brought the joint to her glossy lips and sparked it, inhaling deeply. “Suit yourself,” she said, exhaling. The strap of her dress had slipped off her shoulder, leaving it bare. Even though it didn’t reveal much of anything, there was something so oddly sensual about the whole picture that he had to force himself to drag his gaze away.
“Do you want to pick this time?” She passed him her phone and took another long, languorous hit. He scrolled down the list, considering his options.
“How about: ‘Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.’ ”
She giggled, her voice husky from the smoke. “So, when you said you wanted to learn more about me, what youmeantwas, you want me to think of five ways to compliment you.”
“It says five total, not five each.”
“It’s uneven? Why would they do that? I hate that.” Her voice had begun to take on a slightly dreamy quality. She stubbed out the joint and slipped it back in the case. “You first.”
He considered it.
“I like that you’re tough. Scrappy.”
She burst out laughing. “Me? I was taken down by a cobblestone.”
“Not like that. I mean…you’ve been working since you were, what, ten?”
“Eight.”
He shook his head. “How’d you do it?”
“Do what?” She stretched across the lounge chair, languid and relaxed.
“End up so normal. Well adjusted.” He’d worked with a handful of child actors over the years, and they’d always kind of freaked him out. Now that he had his own kids to compare them to, they almost seemed like another species, or maybe some type of advanced automaton: dead-eyed, precocious, uncannily poised.
“I wasn’t very successful, that’s how. I mean, I worked a lot. But nobody knew who the fuck I was, thank god.”
